After All
by bwayphantomrose
Summary: Set directly after Susan Kay's novel, right after Christine leaves the second time. Is Erik really dead? Maybe. Maybe not. E/C. COMPLETE.
1. Goodbye

**A/N: Set directly after Christine leaves after going back the second time to deliver her wedding invitation. The only difference is that she is NOT pregnant in my phic. There will be too much angst and problems as it is!**

**A/N: (2013) I have recently gone through and done some INTENSE editing to this story. I think it flows a lot better now and I hope I put in a bit more character development and wrapped up a few plot points better. **

Christine

When he stopped breathing, I cried.

He was in my arms, like he asked to be, and I kissed his poor face a million times. I knew he wouldn't want me to cry—he had specifically told me not to—but I promised myself I would not cry anymore. But surely he would allow me these few moments to get my emotions in check.

And yet now he was gone. My angel would never sing to me again.

He had also asked me not to linger. I could hear voices out in the main room and I suddenly realized Raoul had come after me. Dear Raoul… how he loved me! I wanted to say I loved him too—and I did!—but I couldn't say it now, not with my dead husband in my arms.

I kissed Erik one more time…

… and I knew by giving him my heart, I had broken his.

Nadir

The girl came out some time later. She was carrying Ayesha in her arms, and that's how I knew he was really gone. I sighed.

The young Vicomte stood up hastily and went over to his fiancé. She smiled at him, and then turned to me.

"I will take care of everything here." I told her softly. She nodded.

I glanced at the boy, who also nodded and began leading her out.

"And Christine?" I called.

She did not turn, but paused.

"Thank you."

She seemed to quiver for a moment, and then the young couple disappeared out the door. Gone.

I felt a sort of sodden anger and a bit of relief at the whole situation. Christine Daae was gone. Erik was gone. For her, it would be a new beginning, for her to move on. Not for me - I had been through too much loss in my life to be in such a positive position. I felt only tired, with a hint of failure. Erik, despite his deep characters flaws, had only wanted to be loved. In a way, as his friend, I had failed him. When he had left Persia, I had such foolish hopes for him. This was not how I wanted it to end.

I sighed again. I bent down and picked up a sheet of music. It was torn completely in half. If I could somehow paste it together, it could be saved. I held the pieces together and pondered it.

"I would prefer you didn't, Nadir."

I dropped both sheets.

Erik stood in the doorway, looking a little weak, but very much _alive_. My mouth fell open. Was I seeing things? Was this his ghost? I had no doubt that the real ghost of the Phantom of the Opera would haunt me the rest of my life.

"Did I surprise you?" he asked quietly. "Is she gone?"

I could only stare.

"Erik," I said finally, clearing my throat. "You—"

But I could not finish.

"Appear to be alive?" he asked me. "Unfortunately, I rather think I have looked very _unalive_ my whole life- it has been used many times to my severe disadvantage."

"Why are you alive?" I breathed. "Why is Christine gone? What is... what are you doing?"

He grimaced and turned back into his room.

My senses had caught up with me, my brain working very fast at this odd revelation. Christine had returned because she thought he was dying. Christine had left because she thought he had died. Something was not right about this.

"Erik!" I called, following him into the room. He was packing things into a small bag, over by the grandfather clock. "What did you do?"

"I did what I needed to do," he replied steadily, not looking up.

"Which was what?"

"Whatever I needed in order to make her leave."

I looked at him in horror. "You _pretended_ to be dead? Why in Allah's name would you do that? Why aren't you dead? If the girl is gone, you should be dead!"

He coughed and I was reminded that he was very sick, even if he was alive. He gave me a sort of tempermental look, but did not answer me.

"Why?" I demanded. "Why, out of all the impossible things you have ever done—"

"She would have stayed."

I shook my head. "Maybe. Maybe not. But that's no reason to—"

"Damn it, Nadir! She would have _stayed_. Trust me!" He closed his eyes for a moment. "She was willing to stay down here with me… and I couldn't do that to her. Don't you see? I had to let her go! She would have stayed! _She would have stayed!_"

He turned around so I couldn't see him and continued packing.

"So that's it, then?" I asked in disbelief. "You spend the past year going after her, and then when she's finally where you want her, you send her away?"

I suddenly choked as a pair of golden eyes were inches from my own and black-gloved hands curled around my neck. The bag lay strewn open on the floor, the few belonging rolled out.

"I gave her life back!" he hissed. "She was ready to stay—but I am too selfish to keep her in this tomb with a living corpse! I love her! And I love her so much, I want her to be happy. And I can't give her that. _He_ can."

His voice cracked at the end and he let go. My legs turned to lead and I slid down the wall, all the way to the floor.

"So you see." he continued, all emotion suddenly erased from his voice. " I must go far away. So she can be happy. That's all I want." He picked up the bag very easily and began putting the things back inside. "That's all I want."

I stood up carefully. "What if she's happy with you?" I asked cautiously.

His eyes turned to fire. "Don't _test _me, Daroga…"

"Alright, alright!" I said hastily. I watched him for a moment. "Where are you going?"

He suddenly seemed sick again. "I do not know. I simply know I cannot be here."

"You could come stay with me." I offered.

He fixed his stare at me with a frown. "I was thinking somewhere a bit _farther_ away, such as a different country… or planet…"

"Come, Erik." I protested. "You are still sick. You need someone to watch out for you. You wouldn't last long somewhere else at all."

"I know. My hope is that I will not last long no matter where I am."

"Erik! You're still sick! You might be dead tomorrow anyway! You might as well spend your last days with me."

He shook his head a little bit. "Spend my last days with you? Have you met me, Nadir?"

I was encouraged. "I have a big flat. You wouldn't know I was there. I could pretend you weren't. Please, Erik."

He stared at me for a long time. "Fine." he said. "It's more convenient for me. Don't look so thrilled." he added. "Temporary. And I was under the impression that you didn't like me, but you just feel bad for me. Please do not act like that has changed in any bit." he looked down moodily at the bed. "We were young men in Persia," he said softly. "What times those were."

I sighed. "Whatever it takes to keep you close." Never in a million years would I ever admit to Erik what he meant to me. Did he think he was the only man in this room without any friends?

He pondered this for a while. Then his eyes turned to ice.

"But you say _nothing_ to Christine." he warned, his voice dropping dangerously, and I automatically recoiled. "You don't go _near _her, you understand?"

I looked away.

"Please?" he asked, much softer. "Please, Nadir, I cannot—I'm not _strong_ enough—"

His voice had gone very quiet again, so that I had to strain to hear it. I stared into those golden eyes. They were so discerning to read...

I nodded. He sighed.

"Come," he told me, lifting up his bag. "The Phantom wishes to leave his domain." He looked around once at the bedroom, and then turned away.

"Goodbye." I heard him say to no one.

I led him out the door.


	2. Of Endless Nights and Promises

Christine

Raoul wouldn't look at me, and I didn't blame him. He simply kept his arm around me, guiding me, taking each step one at a time. I could have cried with thankfulness at his silence. He didn't question me, or burn me with accusing looks, as he should have.

Raoul really loved me.

Ayesha struggled to get out of my arms, but I held tight. She was probably more confused than I was. I stroked her gently. She eventually stopped bothering me, and lay still in my arms, purring to me occasionally, or hissing if Raoul came too close. She was the only thing of Erik I had left.

The days flew by quickly. I dragged through them all, and I said not one word, not to anybody. My things were moved to Raoul's chateau, and everything was hushed up. I was accepted to be in a state of shock, and left alone. I steadily ignored Raoul for three days, until I realized that I was doing everything wrong. What would Erik have said, with me sulking around and acting so rude to the man who had crushed many rumors about me and taken me into his house? As if I had not caused enough damage with my decisions, I was continuing to act poor to those who had been there for me.

I finally gathered my courage one afternoon, knocking hesitantly on his study door.

"Enter," he called.

I pushed the door open carefully, and I saw his face spread with relief at the sight of me. For some reason, I could not hold back the rush of guilty feelings at this look. "Raoul, I need to talk to you," I muttered, twisting my hands together.

He was on his feet instantly, stopping in front of me and taking both of my hands. He had been so understanding, giving me my privacy these past days, and I hoped he could see the gratitude I could not put into words in my eyes instead. I had been broken, and he did not force me together, but let me mend myself, and I was eternally grateful. I owed him so much more than what I had been giving him.

But I could find no way to say that.

A few seconds passed, and he said, "Christine?"

This was by far, the most awkward situation in my entire life, and although Raoul already knew, I had to tell him. It seemed pointless to beat around the bush when I was sure, this last confession was what he had been waiting for.

"I married Erik."

He nodded slowly, squeezing my hands. I was too ashamed to look into his eyes, and I shook my head bitterly. "I married a dying man, to appease his last wish." Those words stung, but I finally looked up into his eyes and pleaded, "Can you ever forgive me?"

Raoul let out a long breath. "There is nothing to forgive, my dear." I winced. Raoul had _never_ called me that before… That was what Erik used to call me.

He didn't seem to notice my sudden discomfort, but pressed on. It seems he had memorized his speech as I had memorized mine. "I'm so sorry I yelled at you that was so very wrong on my part. I shouldn't have, no man should ever yell like that to the woman he hopes to take as his wife—and I know I promised to take you back there—but—but I was so scared, you have to imagine. And I don't want you to think I'm not a man of my word, because I most certainly am, but just try to understand my position—"

"I understand." I interrupted, placing my fingers in front of his lips—but not touching. "_I_ understand. Now it's your understanding I ask for."

"Christine—"

"Raoul?"

He swallowed. "I love you. Nothing you could do, nothing you could tell me would ever change that. I'm just worried—" He paused and his grip on my hands tightened. "Will you still want to marry _me_?"

I pressed back tears as I had been doing, and pulled my hands away. "Oh, Raoul." I whispered. ""Would you still have me?"

"Oh, dear Christine—" he said, and leaned forward as if to kiss me. But all I could feel was the last lips on mine, and I tore myself away and fled to my room, with dry sobs.

.

Oh, Erik.

Why did you leave me, Erik? When I came to my senses at last, knowing I loved you, why did you desert me? I think I loved you more than life itself, and I just wanted you to know that. But most of all, I want you to know that I came back out of love—not because of Raoul or any promises.

Nadir told me that you thought I wouldn't return. Did you really think me that heartless, Erik? When I kissed you, did you feel my heart? When I married you, did you feel my heart? When I gave myself to you, forever, did you feel my heart? Even when you threatened me with Raoul's life, I was able to kiss you and forget about him. Isn't that awful to say? I felt complete with you, and I _know _you did too.

Didn't you know that? Couldn't you have felt that, even then?

I wanted to shed no tears for you, Erik, just as you wished.

Even minutes ago, in Raoul's study, all I could think of was you. I know, there are plenty of people who lose their spouse and go on to marry again, have children, and live their life. But I really don't know if I can do that, Erik. You were too much to me. I depended on you. I needed you. But now you are gone. It is not as though you were just my husband. We know that was only a title given to represent a moment. You were everything to me. And I was your world.

Oh! It's all my fault, isn't it? If I had not hurt you so much in the first place, you would not have been so broken and you might have lived! We could have had months, maybe years together. Just you and me, Erik. Just us and our music.

What I wouldn't give to see you again, Erik. I fantasize about you walking through my door and sweeping my off my feet to take me away. I'm terribly dramatic, I know. Just one day with you. One hour. Once second!

So much I should have asked you. So much we had to talk about. To explain. I wish I could have heard about your life. I wish I could have heard so much more from you than I ever bothered to ask.

I love you. I unfortunately think that I always have, and I always will.

But I guess now you really are my angel.

.

Erik

The nights are endless.

How I wish I could love the sun, but I cannot. It's only night when I feel I can truly shine. Which, really, is perfectly fine by me? It's eternally nighttime for me in Nadir's little flat. I chose the smallest room he offered me, the one with no windows.

It's scarcely larger than a closet, I must say. In it, there is a small, leather couch, where I sleep when I care to, and a dark, wooden desk. I have a job; a job where I write suggestions on how to construct this, or how to design that, and in return I receive a hefty salary when I mail it to them. My pen name changes constantly, as I pretend to be different people; and as much as they look for me, they will never find me.

I decided to give Nadir about half of my paycheck. It's not as though I _needed_ the money for anything, I just worked for something to do. I had a rapidly growing sack of it in my closet that was being wasted on nothing. I kept getting richer and richer as I wrote more and more building plans to keep my mind off… other things. My successes depressed me. I had thought I was close to death. I had thought I was simply wasting time before time ran out. Every day I do not die is a shame.

Besides, Nadir deserves the money. He doesn't have an abundance of it, and I know he enjoys fine things. Nosy, annoying, and demanding, I suppose I grudgingly consider him as a friend. He _tries_ to help me… _tries_ to make me happy…

_Happy…?_

I have been happy once…

_Oh…_

I have my violin here with me. Day after day, night after night, I play. I play until my arm is exhausted and my fingers are sore.

Sometimes Nadir comes to my door and listens, thinking he is being sneaky and master of stealth; perhaps he forgets exactly who it is he is spying on. He hums along sometimes, if he recognizes the tune, but he was never much of a singer.

_Singer?_

_A beautiful, beautiful singer._

_Christine…?_

It has been a month since I held her one, last time.

Her name sends a flash of lightning down my chest so suddenly, I cannot breathe. I cannot live, or think… My arms want to reach out and crush her to me, but there is no one there, and I am fumbling in the dark. I reach, I pray, hoping, _wishing.._

But I _won't._

I won't condemn her to a life of hell! I won't condemn her to a life with me! I must be stronger than that. If I love her, I can be strong.

I must stop. When she is not in my soul, calling me, enticing me with her song, I can breathe. The hole in my chest does not hurt so much. The tears do not fall.

I am a miserable excuse for someone who does not have a heart! I sob, I cry, I moan like everyone else, until I can find my violin, where I can lose myself until I find my drugs so I can find dreamless sleep… until I wake up tomorrow, furiously scrawling out notes and blueprints, driven half-insane by the name which I guard from my mind, from my lips…

As you can see, the nights are endless.

Nadir

As I passed the kitchen on my way out the door after hearing one of Erik's more depressing concertos, I noticed a new newspaper Daruis must have brought in. I sighed and picked it up to throw it away. The headline caught my attention.

**Viscount de Chagny Postpones Engagement**

I crumpled it up quickly and threw it in the trash before Erik could see.

.


	3. Bonding

Nadir

I kept my promise to Erik. He had asked me not to visit Christine or give out any knowledge that he was still living, and there had been no thought in my head to disobey—not because I knew he would suffocate me if I did, but because every time I thought of it, all I could see were those golden eyes.

I was a fool for romances. When I moved to France all those years ago, I read many of their novels to improve my language. Many were centralized around romantic characters, who seemed to live for each other. While I never cared for their dramatized speeches, or the hours of which they made love, or even their declaration and vows, I always grew attached to the ones who had a bond, something that could only be felt between two people whose love was really defined by the fact that they would die for their significant other.

Did Erik and Christine have this bond?

I wanted to say that I doubted it, but I saw the look in Mademoiselle Daae's eyes when she left. I hear Erik and know what he is feeling. I saw the look in their eyes when I left that room over a month ago.

I missed my wife. Dozens and dozens of years had passed, but I remembered what it was like to have that bond with her; and I knew, from the second that she died, that I would never find that bond again. I had lost my love without warning - Erik was losing his love by choice, and this bothered me more than I cared to admit.

I can't say that the engagement postponement didn't send off a warning sign. I told myself that there could be many reasons why they delayed the wedding. Brides could get cold feet, finances may not have met, or society may have deemed it proper etiquette for them to court longer.

What was I going to do with Erik? Did he think I could not hear him cry at night? Hours after hours, I heard anguished sobs. You have no idea how much it can hurt your soul to hear an angel make such harsh lamentations. And every time they began to quiet, I prayed he was finally soothed, until I heard strings of his violin, which were always worse than the tears themselves.

I voiced my concerns to Darius one day, who sighed and said, "I don't think you remember who took care of you after Rookheeya, do you?"

That had shaken me up.

Nonetheless, I was quite sure I had not exerted the passion that Erik seemed to in his grief.

Erik treated me cordially enough when I sought him out to speak, but then again, _I_ wasn't the one who was vexing him.

After saying my morning prayers, I decided it was time to pay Christine a visit…

.

The Vicomte's house was impressively nice. The maid at the door took one look at my appearance before promptly shutting it in my face. I knocked for a few more minutes until an older maid answered.

"What?" she asked aggressively. "The Viscount is away right now, may he speak to you at another convenient time?"

"No, thank you." I said crisply in French. "It is not the Viscount who I wish to speak to, but his young fiancée, Mademoiselle Christine."

The maid pursed her lips at me and opened the door so I could step in. I did so, admiring the front hall. The maid hurried to the other side where the younger girl was waiting; both began whispering in urgent tones. I allowed this for sixty seconds before I reminded them, "Christine Daae?"

"Yes?" said an unexpected voice from my right.

I turned and gave a little bow to the figure on the stairs. The maids paused.

She looked very pretty, as usual. Although it was after nine o'clock at night, she was still in her day gown, a pretty, flowing pink color that brought out the flush in her pale skin. Her eyes were confused, as if she couldn't decide if she were happy or see me or not. For some reason, I thought she looked younger than ever - no more than a child.

"Nadir?" she asked hesitantly, her hand tightening on the handrail. The maids began to whisper again, glancing between Christine and myself. Christine's eyes darted to them, and then back to me.

I turned around, smiling benignly at them and said, "I should like to speak to Mademoiselle Daae, please."

They continued to stare at me.

"_Alone,_" I clarified, still smiling.

"The Viscount is away," one chimed in a straight tone. "I am afraid that to allow a gentlemen alone with madamoiselle Daae, especially given... past circumstances, could cost us our job."

"As long as I am here, I am lady of the house, and I am in perfect capacity to decide which gentlemen I should or should not see," Christine replied, and her iciness surprised me greatly.

The maids, who seemed perfectly content to ignore me, could not completely disobey a request from Christine. They gave her simpering looks and then turned and disappeared behind a door.

I turned heavily to Christine. That moment of maturity that had so shocked me had completely and utterly vanished. She looked terrified. "Why are you here?" she whispered. "I do not think Raoul would be pleased to hear of this. What is that you could possibly want from me?"

"Mademoiselle?" I asked softly. "Are you well?"

She opened her mouth to answer, closed it, and opened it again as two pearly tears slid down her cheeks. "Nadir," she whispered. "How could you ask that?"

"Mademoiselle, I am so sorry—"

"Hush!" she commanded, in her same, tortured whisper. "They are still listening!"

She seized my hand and dragged me across the room to another door, which appeared to lead into some sort of library. She shut the door and looked around. "They cannot hear us in here." she explained. "The walls are extra thick."

I had no doubts about the quality of the wall; only that this door was next to the door which the maids had vanished through. But I turned to her anyway. I had not exactly formulated a plan around visiting her, only that I had to see her, and I had to tell her... something.

"How are you doing, Mademoiselle?" I asked formally, feeling suddenly very wrong and out of place.

She offered me a weak smile. "Nadir, I think you know me well enough to call me Christine. It's much easier for you." She sank into the cream colored chair against the wall. "I feel as though we could be best friends! Don't you?"

"I just came by to see how you were—"

"Coping?" she interrupted. "Not very well, Nadir, not well at all." Her voice quivered, and she looked away, saying, "I don't suppose you mind if I'm about to get all weepy? Because I am."

She brought her slender hand to her face and sniffed into it for a moment. I sat very still. Her emotions seemed so similar to Erik's, that I could have ruined everything right there, shaking her and screaming, "_He's alive! He's alive and he cries for you as you cry for him because he loves you! He did a silly thing in his self-pity, and it shouldn't cost you like this. This would be so much simpler if you were with him right now!_"

But of course, I said nothing. I searched around for something to console her with, but then she looked up, her eyes quite dry.

"I'm sorry." she told me. "Just seeing you again, it—"She stopped. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

She smiled, as if encouraging me to continue. I decided to just jump in. "I saw something in the newspaper about the engagement."

Christine waved her hand dismissively. "Yes. That's what Raoul told them to put. I read the story. It mentions how my recent "tragedy" has made me sick, so they are postponing our engagement until I am healthy enough. That is a fair enough story, I suppose. I cannot say I disagree with it."

"Are you telling me that it is not entirely true?"

She laughed at my expression. "You'll never guess what I did, Nadir."

"What?" I asked warily.

"I have turned Raoul down."

"What?" I repeated.

"Yes," she replied dreamily. "I called it off about a week ago. Isn't it horrible? Aren't I a horrible person? My knight and shining armor comes to rescue me from the claws of the evil monster, and I stay at his home, drink in his hospitalities and leave him after his quest?" She looked down at her fingers in her lap. "But we both know that's not really what happened," she said softly. "Or... perhaps it was. I don't know."

I ran my tongue over my teeth, thinking. She was not marrying the boy? This was getting into all sorts of degrees of complicated.

"Raoul understands," she continued. "Too much, actually. He's being too kind about the whole situation. He was probably getting tired of me, after all. He was still willing to love me, willing to have me, but he deserves someone who can give them their whole heart and I –can't do that. And right now... it just seemed like the wrong thing to do. I just... I didn't _want_ to marry Raoul. I am not saying I do not love him, or that I will not want to marry him some day. Just that I cannot right now."

My mind was absorbing her words very quickly, memorizing every look on her face, every emotion she displayed.

"I will no longer be staying her, starting the day after tomorrow," she murmured. "Raoul has helped me purchase a flat on Coeur West Street—you know where that is, don't you? It's a nice neighborhood, and a nice place. I shall live there, and you are entitled to visit me whenever you please. I'm a little lonely now, can you believe?"

She pressed her hands together in a position of prayer in her lap and looked up at me to let me know her speech was over.

"But what will you do with the rest of your life? I asked her. "Will you sing?"

"Oh no," she replied, her tone becoming darkly serious. "I will never sing again."

I sighed, and I shook my head. "Christine," I said. "That would not be what Erik would have wanted."

She shrugged. "Who knows what Erik ever really wanted?"

I struggled to form words. "Well - your voice was everything to him. Do you think he would be happy that you chose to throw it all away? My wife passed away a very long time ago. When she died, I wanted to die as well, but I could not. And now, look at where I am today."

"That is very sad," she acknowledged. "I am sorry for your loss. And I would be sorry if my decision made Erik unhappy. But I cannot sing right now. I cannot marry Raoul. There are a lot of things I cannot do right now, for anyone. And that is... just how it is."

"Do you miss him?" I ask quietly.

She looks away from me, down at her small hands, which are twisted in her lap. "More than anything," she replied softly. "And I would give anything to have him back."

I had too much information in my mind to take anymore in. I stood.

Christine walked me to the door. She bid me goodnight and thanked me for coming by. But on the threshold, I simply could not rest content with one thing.

"Erik would not have wanted you to stop singing," I reminded mournfully. "He let you go so you could share your voice with the world."

She turned away from me, crossing her arms, a defiant look on her face that I knew immediately was masking her sorrow once again. "Who knows what Erik would have wanted?" she repeated stubbornly, and she closed her eyes. She seemed to try to pull herself back to me, but couldn't. "Erik—Erik is gone."

I closed my eyes as well as she closed the door. I could hear her running up the stairs. I knew then that the look in her eyes would haunt me until she knew the truth.

I trudged back towards my flat, knowing I was beyond guilty.

_Erik, what have you gotten yourself into?_


	4. Loved and Lost

Raoul

I gave her everything: I gave her time, I gave her love, and I gave her care. But it was difficult to imagine her situation. Of course, many women remarry, so I tried to think that I was just her second husband. But Erik was not her _real_ husband. And that didn't seem fair to me anyway, because she was in love with me first.

I imagined that I had met the ugliest woman in the world, who looked like death and lived where no one else had ever seen her. She taught me how to do everything I'd ever dreamed, after manipulating and lying to me, even if she thought we'd shared similar interests. However, she kept me locked up against my will, shouted and screamed at me, tried to murder my fiancée, and then cruelly forced me to marry them.

Oh, and they also had a violent temper that was dangerous to my health, and killed anyone who simply got in the way.

I couldn't picture it! I just couldn't!

I could not see why in the world Christine would choose Erik.

Nadir

I chose to speak with Erik the next night after I had spoken with Christine. He was in the living room, humming to himself and making bizarre-looking paper chains. From the smell of stale whisky in the air, I assumed he had been drinking, and I debated with myself on whether I should approach him in that condition. Erik did not drink. Erik did not like to drink. Erik drinking was bad. I finally decided that with his senses slowed, there was a lesser chance of him attacking me.

I sat a good ten feet away from him, watching his hands fold the paper delicately. "What are you making?" I asked.

His eyes glanced irritably at me before flicking back to his creation. He was silent for a minute, and I was just thinking that perhaps this was a bad night to talk to him when he held out his hand to show me.

It was a little mini castle that fit in the palm of his hand. It was so perfectly folded and creased, almost magically staying together without any paste.

I marveled inwardly at them for a moment, before saying, "Those are lovely."

Without answering me, he brought the castle up to his eyes. "You think?" he asked. "They are now, but within minutes, the moisture in the air runs them down and they become nothing. " He looked at me as though he had just proved some substantial point. "This one's not very good."

He looked at closely again before crushing it in his fist and tossing it on the floor. I thought I heard him say "Beautiful things never last."

I glanced on the ground and rolled my eyes. Dozens of crumpled papers that had no doubt once been little castles littered the floor by his feet. So this is what he was doing. Making them, destroying them. Making them, destroying them.

This was probably a _really_ bad night to bring this up.

I paused, and locked my hands together. I had a sudden urge to say, "Guess what I did, Erik!" as Christine had done to me, but something told me I would not get the same reaction.

Erik—damn him!—sensed my apprehension and frowned at me.

"Whatever news you are tentatively trying to tell me, you'd better spit out," he said flatly. "Your hesitation is annoying me."

Hesitation? _He_, of all people, was yelling at _me_ for _hesitation?_

"I just wanted to discuss a small matter with you," I began innocently, rubbing my knuckles together and watching the way he examined those strange pieces of paper with his eyes. "But I am... nervous as to how you will take it."

He did not look up at me. "There are very few matters that interest me anymore..."

"Yes, so I am quite certain you are aware of what interest I am speaking of." When he made no immediate threatening move, I chose my least strategic point of view. "I am not sure if you have heard... but... she has called off her engagement to the young viscount."

Through his masked face, he seemed to make very little reaction. "The engagement was simply postponed," he replied shortly. So he already knew that. "There has been no public mention on what the state of their relationship is. For you to suggest anything otherwise would be remarkably suspicious..."

"I went to go see Christine," I told the arm of my chair.

The arm of the chair was very beautiful. It had been sitting in my main room for almost three years, how had I never noticed the charming intricacies of the floral pattern I had so despised when I had purchased them?

"Tell me again, what you just said."

"Those are beautiful castles."

He stood up, and although I drew back substantially, he seemed to be handling quite better than I had been anticipating. "I knew this would happen," he said bitterly. "I knew I had no right to trust you. You and your _compassionate_ side - what were you doing, giving her marriage advice?"

I stood up as well. "You have to see this is getting ridiculous."

"_You_ are getting ridiculous. I cannot stay here like this."

He made motions towards the door, as though he were really going to depart. "It was not a big deal - but I needed to speak to her. For her to call off her engagement could mean many things for you, don't you see?"

"For me?" Erik hissed, turning and giving me a glowing look. "I have taken care of many things for me already, and you cannot imagine my displeasure at you attempting to recreate problems I have already avoided!"

"Problems you have avoided? I just wanted to see how the girl was doing! She's had quite a trying month, as you can imagine!"

"But _why_?" Erik cried. "Why did you have to _tell _me?"

"Because she _misses_ you!"

"I don't care if she misses me! She's better off without me! Nadir, you are ruining everything I did. You cannot undo this, for her, or for me. And if you try, it will be very unfortunate for you."

I glared at him. "That's you speaking, not her. You gave her no choice."

"I gave her a choice," he suddenly growled.

"And then disregarded it!"

Erik threw his hands up in the air. "You know what? You're right. Why don't I just go back to her front door and tell her that an ugly corpse loves her and he faked his death to her, but now he's sorry and wants to take her back so we can have the who damn story all over again? I am sure, if she did not despise me before, that _faking one's death_ is an adaquete reason to be mildly upset at a person! I'll just tell her that I'm alive and healthy and she agreed to marry me! It was no _one day only_ deal! I'll just take her away from her husband and we can just skip away, is that what you want me to do?"

"There is no husband. Are you deaf? _She called off her engagement to Raoul."_

Erik let out a short laugh. "He didn't want some girl ruined by the ugly bastard who tried to kill him, is that right?"

"_Christine _called off the wedding."

"Well, that's stupid," he retorted breezily. "Or has she found another man who loves her? Or has she suddenly been inspired by the nunnery? There are many possibilities here."

"She said she couldn't go through with it because she couldn't give Raoul her whole heart."

Erik stood still for a moment, before he crossed over and dropped back into his chair, covering his masked face with one hand. "Foolish, dramatic girl," I heard him mutter. "She thinks her life is an opera." He looked up, thinking. "And what an interesting one it would make, as well." he said aloud. "Which lover would she choose in the end?"

"You are just as dramatic as her!" I muttered.

He looked straight at me. "I am leaving," he said. I opened my mouth to protest, but his voice overpowered mine. "Go on, tell her I'm alive if you want, but she'll never find me. And then _you'll _be the one who ruined her life." When he saw my look, he shook his head. "I won't do it, Nadir. I'm too coward to go ask for her love again."

I pressed my lips together. "What if she came and requested it of you?"

Flames licked at his eyes. "She won't."

"But just _say,_ if she did—"

"She _won't_. Now it is you who will be manipulating her decision! Do not bring the girl back here out of guilt!"

"Stupid, stubborn man!" I went over to his little castles that had been trodden by his feet. "Look at all these! Beautiful things never last, is that it? Tell me, Erik—is it better to have loved and lost, or never loved at all? You finally _had_ a beautiful thing that would have lasted, and you threw it away? Idiot! I am tired of your complaining!"

His shoulders slumped just a little and he hands clenched into fists. "It wouldn't have," he said flatly.

"What wouldn't have?"

"It wouldn't have lasted," he said sadly.

On that somber note, he rose again and this time truly left the room, out to the streets.

Erik

Why did things always happen to me?

Damn!

What was it with me? Why can I not keep my infernal temper in check? Why can I need keep my emotions under control? Did Nadir think it was some sort of a game? Never before had I experienced such anger, confusion, sorrow, and determination in such a short period of time. I was growing too old for this.

I was a dangerously unstable person, I could see that.

And this only proved that my decision had been a wise one, and no one, not even Nadir, not even Christine, could convince me otherwise.

I suddenly felt very tired and sick. Wasn't I supposed to be dead by now? Why was my body doing this? Sick, well, sick, well. Couldn't God make up his mind whether he wanted me or not? With all my medical experiences, I had to say that my case was impossible. I couldn't determine what the hell was wrong with me.

_Why am I so angry?_

I was furious! Furious because I was sick of being hurt, sick of crying like a fool and wanting what I shouldn't, and so sick of myself! _I hate me! I hate everything! I want someone to pay!_

_I want to kill!_

I walked down the street very slowly, my breathing returning to normal. I hummed softly to myself, gently clearing away the red haze in my mind.

The sudden anger left me strangely numb. I found I was thinking of Christine without pain. I thought of her smile, or her beautiful hair that framed her face. I imagined I could hear her voice, and it made me so happy, that for a moment I almost started to cry _with happiness._

_"Is it better to have loved and lost, or never loved at all?"_

I found one more sheet of paper in my vest pocket that I had been using to make the castles. Little tricks, illusions I could make with paper. Shame Nadir had to see a castle, usually I can make them much more interesting. Instruments, people….

I had no desire, whatsoever, to drug myself, or forget. I loved Christine, and I used this time to remember her. It was almost like _she _was dead to my mind. Someone I could look back on, but never have again.

I really began to frighten myself! Why was I so numb, so cool? Maybe I had completely snapped.

_Finally…_

I realized there was one thing I could do. I couldn't just go up to Christine and ask her to come back with me. I really was dead to her. She believed that, and I would give her a heart attack if I appeared…

...as a man.

Did Christine still believe in angels?

I made my way to the Chagny chateau with brave steps. An inspiration had begun within me.


	5. Nighttime Shadows

Christine

On the day before I was to leave the chateau, I stroked the grand piano mournfully, locked away all the jewels I had been given back into their worn cases, and set about to pack with a quiet air. As I expected, Raoul showed up by mid-afternoon, lingering at the door before I gestured him in.

"You've really leaving?" he asked dully. His eyes roamed over to the closet, where all the dresses I had been given on my arrival still hung, untouched by me. "Why are you leaving everything here?"

I liked the dresses I had been given. They were all rich and colorful, with the nicest cloth and the prettiest designs. But I couldn't take them with me. My "real" clothes, as I called them, were the ones that I came with, and the ones that I would leave with. Something about Raoul buying feminine things for me was unsettling.

It had been like a visit. Nice. Fun. But time to go.

"I'm only leaving with the things I brought," I told him. "I know those were all expensive. I would not want to take them from you. They're not really mine."

Raoul stepped further into the room. "Those _are_ yours. I had them made for you. I'm certainly not going to wear them. You're supposed to take them."

"I wouldn't feel comfortable doing that," I explained, although that wasn't really it at all. I didn't know why I wasn't taking the dresses, but I just didn't want to.

Raoul's expression was too polite, almost guarded. Everything was going wrong! The happiness I thought I would have had vanished. I felt alone, and helpless.

"They were made for you," he repeated stubbornly. "What am I supposed to do with them when you leave? I think you should take them."

I realized this was the least I could do for Raoul. To deny an offer of a gift would be impolite. "I will," I said quietly. "Thank you."

I expected him to leave, but instead he came over and sat in the little chair. He looked pointedly at me until I blushed and had to look away.

"So the Persian came over the last night?" Raoul asked conversationally.

I hated all those maids and butlers. Really hated them sometimes.

"Yes," I replied, tossing the rest of my things into my carpet bag. "I could hardly deny him entrance, could I?"

"What did you talk about?"

I spun around. "We didn't talk about _him_, if that's what you're asking."

Raoul surveyed my face with mild alarm. "Calm down, Christine. I am not trying to get you angry. I was simply wondering."

"I'm not angry," I muttered. Is this why he came in? To hear about Erik one last time before I left? Because I wasn't going to talk about that, and I wanted to be sure that was very _very_ clear.

"Christine," Raoul said. "It's not that at all. I just think it's improper for a man to visit a young girl who is engaged, especially after your recent events. And to not tell me about it? Well, it doesn't look good."

"My _recent events_?" I repeated in a mocking tone. "My marriage, you mean?"

"Christine," Raoul said again, and for the first time, I picked up a touch of anger in his own voice. "Please do not call it that. You know it was not really like that."

I could have said a million things to defend Erik, to defend myself, but I could see Raoul's mind had already formulated what he thought had happened, and nothing I could say would change that. In my heart, it was a marriage, and there was nothing Raoul could say that would change _that_.

We were both silent for a minute.

"Why are you really doing this?" Raoul asked very quietly. "Erik is dead. I know you loved him in your own way, but he's not coming back._ I_ am here. _I _love you just as much as he did, even more. Different love, Christine. Caring love. Good love. I've done nothing but love with you all my heart, and if you cannot give me all of yours, it doesn't change it for me. Nothing you could say could stop me from wanting to marry you. So what is it that is so terrible about me? Would you really rather be an old maid than marry me?"

Now _that_ made me upset. And usually when I was upset, I started to cry. An old maid? Is that what I would be? Was he saying no one else would ever love me?

I scoffed when I realized that was not what he was saying. He was saying_ I _would never love someone else.

That wasn't true. Or maybe it was, I didn't know. I just didn't know anything right now.

"I have _no idea_ what I'm going to do, Raoul," I said, trying to make my voice sound gentle, while a mixture of anger and tears tried to get out instead. "That's exactly why I'm leaving. Maybe just for a little while, just to sort out my thoughts. You have been such a good man, Raoul, and have done everything for me—except sort out my thoughts, which is what I need to do."

"You can sort them out here."

"No, I can't. I care about you too much. The longer I stay here, the more I hurt you by pretending to be someone I'm not."

"That's ridiculous," muttered Raoul. "This isn't one of your shows, Christine. These are real decisions you're making. I accept that our situation is unusual - probably one of the most unusual situations ever - but why are you continuing to ignore the main fact: that I still love you?"

I gave a watery smile. "Who would have ever thought that I'd be making my own decisions?" I did not want to hurt Raoul with my words. "You have made your decision, and I respect you for it. I even love you for it. But my decisions have not been made yet. And until I make them, I feel uncomfortable being here."

He came up to me and kissed me on the cheek. I couldn't move.

"I love you, Christine," he said. "You're welcome back whenever."

I couldn't kiss him back, not right now, not after I had turned him down, but I took both his hands as he had once taken mine. "I know, Raoul. I know."

.

That night, I rolled around in the silk sheets, shivering because of the open window. I finally got up to close it, but that simply woke me up even more. I sat on the windowsill for a moment, thinking. The grounds outside were completely dark, and the only shapes you could see were the shadows that made threatening designs on the ground. Out of all the things to be frightened of, I was still frightened of shadows, so I eventually climbed back into my bed.

All my things were packed, including the dresses from Raoul; I had my finances secured for my new living accommodations, which had mostly been paid for by Raoul; and I had my engagement ring set out on the plush, cream cushion beside my bed, the beautiful engagement ring from Raoul.

That was a horrible, guilty sensation when I put the ring away. What man wants to be given back his ring? But I couldn't take that with me. And Raoul didn't argue.

"I'll keep it safe," he had promised. As if I were coming back next week to pick it up. As if everything would be back to how he wanted it to be soon enough. And in a way, perhaps he was right. Perhaps that would come to pass, and no one would be happier than I if it did.

I was so confused! Why was I doing this? I could be comfortable and happy here with Raoul. I loved Raoul, I really did, and I couldn't pretend I didn't. Why was I leaving? Was I trying to be noble? What on earth was I going to _do_?

I struggled most of all with the fact that Erik had _asked_ me to stay with Raoul. But that was just because he knew he was dying, and that I wouldn't be able to stay with him, right? If Erik had lived, we would be living together, and Erik would not have wanted me to go with Raoul.

I hugged my pillow to my chest and imagined I could hear Erik's voice in my ear, right now, as I used to. I imagined he was right here next to me, with one arms around my waist, and one curled in my hair…

"_Erik?"_

"_Yes, my love?"_

"_I love you."_

"..._I know you do…"_

"_Are you angry at me? Erik?"_

"_How could I be angry at you? You are right here, in my arms, and you are so soft, Christine…"_

"_I was so confused—"_

"_Hush, beautiful. You have nothing to be confused about. I shall be gone by morning and you will go with your handsome boy and be happy. That's what I want."_

"_Erik, don't say such things. You are here now."_

"_Yes. I am here now, with you."_

"_You are my husband."_

"_Yes, right now. And I love you."_

"_Erik…"_

"_Why are you crying? Are you not happy, like I am? Erik will be with you always."_

"_But I won't see you!"_

"_But you will hear me…always… Say it again."_

"_Anything, Erik."_

"_Tell me."_

"_Tell you… I love you?"_

"_Your voice is so perfect…"_

"_I love you, Erik. I love you. I love you. I love you."_

I sat up straight in my bed, listening. What was that?

Erik's voice was floating sweetly through my head, even louder than my memories of it. Usually, I heard it in my dreams. But here I was now, wide awake, Erik's voice sounding closer than ever before.

It was only because I was thinking of him, right? He wasn't really here. Erik was gone. And angels don't exist.

His illusory voice mesmerized me until my legs hung over the side of the bed and I was leaning forward, listening.

"_But you will hear me… always."_

"Erik?" I whispered to the empty room. "Promise to sing me to sleep every night?"

His voice did not answer, but merely continued to weave an elaborate melody through my dazed mind. Something was telling me that his voice was seemingly _outside_ my head, not in—more specifically, outside my window. Perhaps I was sleeping...? If I was, then I was content with this.

I crossed over to the glass doors that led to the balcony, the wooden floor cold on my bare feet. I opened them carefully so I could step out.

The voice stopped instantly as the breeze hit my face. Had I been dreaming after all, and finally awakened, only to be disappointed? My nightgown clung to my small frame. The sudden drop of temperature made me clasp my arms around my torso, and duck my head so my curls would keep the wind off my face.

And then, quite distinctly, I heard his voice cry out, "Christine!"

_Erik… I am coming..._

"Christine!"

I turned to see that it was not Erik's voice at all, but Raoul, who suddenly burst through the door in my room, looking wildly about. When he saw me outside, he grabbed a shawl from my chair and came out.

"What are you doing out here?" he demanded, throwing the shawl around my shoulders. "Come inside at once, before you catch pneumonia!"

The warmth of his arms felt nice, and I turned to lay my head in his chest. I was not thinking clearly, my mind was not processing. Tears of disappointment gathered at my eyelids, but as always, they did not fall. For one whole moment, I had been convinced I would really see my angel again…

"Christine, you're sleepwalking," Raoul murmured into my hair. "Do you know what a fright you just gave me, seeing your bed empty like that? I thought... well...you must come inside."

"I'm awake," I protested into his vest, which smelled like peppermint. "I was just—thinking."

"Right," Raoul said soothingly. "Of course. But it is very chilly out. You need to come in."

I nodded. Keeping his arm around me, he led me back to my room. Maybe he was right. Had I been dreaming? It had felt so real… One of the shadows even _looked_ like him.

"That's right." Raoul told me as I climbed in bed and wrapped the silk sheets around my shivering body. "Go back to sleep."

I saw him turn back to my balcony and walk out. He stood there, looking suspicious for a long time. He stood there for several minutes before he finally came in and closed the doors behind him. I heard the click of the lock.

"No more nightmares for you tonight, Christine." I heard him whisper. And then suddenly I could hear him walking down the hall, back to his study.

I hummed the melody I had heard in my head, and wondered why I could hear the sounds of a dream so precisely.


	6. Below the Balcony

**A/N: Erik and Christine interact! Sort of. Well, not really. But soon they will. **

Raoul

I saw him!

I heard it first, from my study, that voice that I had heard from behind the walls of a place where I thought for sure I would die, calling for Christine.

Thinking I had to be dreaming such sounds, I rushed out as quickly as I could, and there in her room, Christine was looking over her balcony, listening and looking as though she were about to walk right over…

He was dead. Was his ghost coming back to haunt us?

I pulled her inside as quickly as I could. She was confused, and I couldn't tell if she were sleeping or not. Was she under his sick spell again? Either way, I had to get her inside. How odd! If I had heard the voice... and Christine had heard the voice... then certainly there had been a voice!

When she was in bed, I went back out. The grounds were calm, quiet. No evidence of any disembodied voice from anyone. Until something caught my eye.

I sat in my room for a long time after that, smoking one of the cigars that had been given to me for a wedding present. What had I seen? Erik was dead. I continuously said that to myself, as if repeating a million times would make it true. I had lived a relatively simple, boring life, which I liked. But Christine had thrown me into a world of dramatic chaos, turning me into a man who fell into torture chambers and flinched at shadows in his backyard! I could not pretend that I was not frightened by the fact that I had seen the ghost of a ghost on the lawn. For a ghost, it had looked awfully solid. I went into Christine's room several times that night, to make sure she was alright. She was always fast asleep.

Erik, I swear to God, you had better be dead.

Erik

He saw me!

I had walked around the De Chagny residence for quite some time, staring at all the windows, dreaming about which one could be Christine's. Had Nadir spoken the truth? Had they not been married yet? I let my eyes wonder over the closed curtains and shimmering glass. What was Christine thinking, putting off a wedding like that? Society would be very much against my poor girl as it was. I briefly wondered if I was desperate enough for a glimpse of her to leap up on the brick wall and open all the windows. Being caught was not what crossed my mind when I decided against it, but the possibility that I might see them _together_…

My thoughts grew quite jealous as I prowled along the border.

_She belonged to me first! m_y mind hissed victoriously, as if the de Chagny boy was right in front of me. If the de Chagny boy was right in front of me, he wouldn't even have time to scream…I generously enjoyed that thought in my head.

But I sighed heavily when I realized that I would never harm a hair on that boy's head. I would never hurt Christine like that. Unfortunately, those two were like a packaged deal.

I chose a random window that looked quite empty and dark inside, with a two doors and a balcony, to situate myself under. I studied the framework for a minute, noting that the foundation was very poorly and hastily built. I smiled to myself, for the first time in a long time. Here I was, in the closest proximity I had been to Christine for a month and I was thinking of woodwork! Perhaps that was good. Perhaps that symbolized healing.

I had the sudden desire to sing.

I chose a lullaby song and began singing. I didn't bother to throw my voice or disguise, but simply sang out as I had with Christine. My voice was not very loud, and it was certainly not able to be heard through the closed doors. I looked through a crack in the balcony's floor up to the window. A little up from it was another window to a different room that was slightly cracked open. I hesitated, but I could not stop.

I suppose sometimes I forget the impact my voice appears to have on people.

I heard the balcony doors open above me, and reacted instinctively to sudden noises, as I do. I rushed out from under, which I quickly realized was a very foolish thing to do, considering that whoever had just appeared on the balcony would be able to look down and see me. I backed into the shelter of the nearest tree, which effectively hid me so I could look up and see who it was.

Ah, God has a funny sense of humor.

It was Christine.

My voice faltered and died in my throat. Of course she would have heard it. Her ears must be as attuned to my voice as mine are to hers. I could pick out her voice in a crowd of millions if I were miles away.

Here she was, standing a few feet away from me. She was beautiful! She was the most beautiful creature that had ever been placed on this earth, and I was being allowed to see her. How little she had changed! Had I expected her to be like _them_ now, a snobby upper class woman just from being with young Raoul? She was young and precious as ever.

Christine, I have missed you so much! I need you here, right now! Look down, Christine, Erik is here! I will always be here, just like I promised. Forever and ever and ever.

My mask was wet now, and I was not even ashamed. All I could see was her, looking out expectantly, almost with eager anticipation. She was awake and in control of her senses, and she heard me. It was almost intolerable, to be so near to her and not be able to announce my presence. My self control made attempts to disengage my solid plan of abandonment. I could take her away, like I had before... And this time, I would know she would not run away...

But that was the whole point. I let her go because... I knew she would not run away. Especially towards the end of our time together, I noticed Christine had become—what was the word—immune? to the control of my voice. She had heard it so much, that I could not invade her mind to serenade her. So now she was right in front of me, her mind clear, looking for me. And voice or not. She would not run away!

My precious angel! Erik has made a horrible, horrible mistake! Forgive me and come back! I will do anything to have you back!

My actions caught up with me. What had I been thinking? What do I do, _what do I do?_

"Christine!"

I was shaking my head as I said, and I almost laughed. This was insane. Nadir was right. This was ridiculous! There was no other word for it... no other word for it... Christine... I was losing my mind!

She turned, and I was one joyous moment away from leaping out to her, showing myself proudly under her balcony, like Romeo, and proclaiming my love.

Until I heard another voice.

"Christine!"

Raoul de Chagny burst in her room without knocking. He came out to her side, pulling a shawl around her shoulders, forcing her to turn and hug him. I growled and exhaled all the breath from my body, yet at the same time, I was oddly thankful for his appearance...

All the same, I glowered at no one in particular.

"What are you doing out here? Come inside at once!"

I watched her put her arms around him—and the jealously almost made me sick again. Raoul patted her head. "Right," he told her, his voice similar to that of someone talking to someone who was sick and confused. My gloved hands were clenched into fists so tight that I wondered if I would ever be able to unclench them.

Raoul led her back in her room, where I couldn't see. I stepped forward, my anger becoming raw sorrow that I knew I would pay for later. She had been so close. Yet, what would she have done when I revealed myself? I grudgingly told my mind that I should be glad the boy came out to stop me. Who knew what foolish thing I would have done in my state? It had been utterly stupid to call for her in the first place. I could not be her angel again. Everything I had done was to save her, and it would be sick to pull her back in! What good would my actions have done then? I had suffered too much for them to simply throw it away.

Deeply absorbed in my thoughts, I chanced one more glance up at the room where I knew my lovely Christine lay.

Raoul de Chagny stood on the edge of the balcony, his eyes staring right back into my own.

_Silence._

I did not move. I simply stared at him, knowing my eyes were visible beneath my mask. There was nothing to be done. I just stood there, staring. How disturbingly similar this was to a previous time he had caught me trespassing on his grounds. He had been foolish enough before to try to shoot a man... now would he try to shoot a ghost?

After a minute, he turned and walked inside.

I realized I was holding my breath.

Now that I knew where my Christine was, I could see her whenever—if I was ever strong enough to come back—but I knew that he would have locked the doors and probably be going back to check on her several times throughout the night. The locked door meant nothing to me, but I could not imagine what horrors fate would have in store for him if he was so close to me while I was next to Christine.

Christine would never love me if I killed her fiancé in front of her eyes.

I crossed out from under the tree and ran all the way back to Nadir's flat. Seeing Christine had given me a mixture of grief and hopefulness; she would always be there, and I could always see her. I loved her. This would not heal. This required some other form of thought.

It was time for me to disappear.


	7. Formal Visit

Nadir

I was utterly bewildered when Erik stormed back in later that night, packed all of his things, and was out the door before I had even risen from my chair. "What have you _done_?" I called after him. But I never really expected an answer.

Fuming, I had half a mind to go after him, before realizing he would lose me within a minute.

I suppose I figured he would return, eventually. As a day went by, and then another, and then another, I waited fruitlessly for some sort of letter from Erik, but to no avail. I finally allowed myself to panic. What if he was really not ever coming back?

Erik had become that brother; the one who went down the wrong path, made the wrong decisions, and irritated the hell out of you, but you grudgingly loved and took care of. I was, admittedly, a lonely man. I wanted Erik back.

I also began visiting Christine had her new home. Each time, she was overjoyed to see me, and I began to gather that the girl was very lonely as well. Every time I went over, she was always home and never seemed to have anywhere to go. She was a great conversationalist when she wanted to be. I found myself enjoying her company more and more, and I liked to tell myself that she was certainly growing fond of mine.

I also noted how different her method was to losing Erik that Erik's was to losing Christine: She wanted to talk about him as much as possible. I was so uncomfortable with this my first few visits, terrified I would let something slip, so that by the last three visits, we didn't mention him at all.

On returning from one of my visits with her, Darius greeted me at my door, looking concerned.

"You just missed a man here to see you." he informed me. "Said he would come every night at the same time until he could speak to you."

"Was it Erik?" I asked, but without any real conviction. Darius would know if it were Erik.

"No sir," Darius said quietly. "Young and wealthy."

A sudden thought crossed my mind."Raoul de Chagny?"

"He wouldn't give his name."

I frowned.

The next night, I waited by the hearth, knowing my visitor would come any time. Darius had just popped his head in to tell me that this is when the gentlemen had come yesterday, when the buzzer rang.

My thoughts had been correct. Raoul stood in my doorway, his smile plastered on. "Monsieur," he said. "I was hoping you would be home tonight."

I nodded, surprised by his cold formality. Whatever friendship we might have developed during our quest had been watered down during our last time spent together. Perhaps he saw me as the man who allowed another man to lay with his future wife. I could not hold that against him in fair conscience, so I courteously gestured him in.

He stared around my apartment, and then turned to me without sitting down. "I have a few important questions."

I waved my hand for Darius to leave us alone. The boy's demeanor was mature, but I could tell he was slightly nervous. "Please sit down."

He hesitated, but finally fell into the same chair Erik had sat in when I had last talked to him. The irony made me smile.

"This is really not a social visit," Raoul muttered, but I could see his professional countenance slipping. "I need answers, though, and you seem to have them." He took a breath. "First of all, sources have informed me that you are visiting Christine almost every evening. May I inquire to as why?"

I grew very indignant. "Have you had people following me?"

He shrugged. "It's just noticeable. I have many friends in that neighborhood, which is why I wanted Christine to stay there, so they could keep an eye on her. They are suspicious of what you do there. A man visiting a woman living alone? You are making her look bad."

I could have thrown him out then and there, but I was efficient at hiding my anger and shock. All I had been thinking about was comforting the girl, but now I could see what it would look like…

"Mademoiselle Daae is very lonely," I stressed. I did not mention my own feelings on the matter. "She invites me back just so she can have someone to talk to."

"She might have plenty of friends in her new house if they felt comfortable coming over. But _you _are always there. "

"That is most certainly not true!" I replied, shocked and quite livid. "I visit her every other day for an hour or so! I am a friend, and I have every right to be!"

Raoul closed his eyes. "I know, I know. I say all the wrong things. Everyone's always angry at me. I know you're just visiting her because she likes talking to you about Erik. But I can't let anyone else know that, so they can't see any way that you two are connected. And you must understand what it is like, having to deal with all of this, hear all this. I am trying so hard to protect Christine, but she just keeps slipping away."

I slowed down my breathing. The boy was only reacting to society, and I was not one to lose my temper. I noticed he looked very tired.

"I shouldn't have brought it up," he continued, his eyes still closed. "At first, I didn't want you near her because I wanted her to forget about Erik. But I don't think that's ever going to happen. Now I'm just reciting all the things my family members have told me. They're spying on her, and there's nothing I can do."

I sighed. "Perhaps you should visit her sometimes. She really does get very lonely. I don't know what she does all day, but I don't think she talks to anyone else."

"I will tomorrow," Raoul said. "I have some things I must discuss with her as well." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I must admit... I was hoping she would come back much sooner than this. I avoided visiting her. I thought she might... well, visit me first. I thought... that she might... miss me."

"I am certain she does," I said reassuringly. "A visit from you would be most welcome to her."

He suddenly sat up, and I felt his mood change drastically. "That brings me to my next question. Do you mind if I ask it straight out? I will, then. Where did you bury Erik?"

My mouth went very dry and my pulse quickened, but decades of handling this allowed me to have know visual reaction. "Under the Opera House, as he requested."

"Where, exactly?'

"Respectfully, he did not wish for anyone to know where."

"By his lake?"

"Yes. By his lake."

Raoul stared at me. "Monsieur Khan," he said very slowly. "If I went, right now, and dug up the whole Opera House, would I find his body?"

I sat quietly, praying to Allah to give me something to say. I had a terrible feeling connected to why Erik had rushed out so quickly a week ago. Foolish man! Had he allowed himself to be seen?

"You do not have to lie to me," Raoul commented, and I saw his hands were shaking. "You can still get out of it. Tell me you buried him somewhere else. Tell me you burned him. Anything. Or just tell me—is Erik really dead?"

I had made so many mistakes in my life. So many things I should have never let Erik do. But how I wished I could have told Christine first.

"No," I said very softly.

"Thank you," Raoul said, standing up. "That's all I needed to know. Now I need to go visit Christine."

I seized his arm. "You cannot tell her! She mustn't know!"

Raoul looked at me with incredulous eyes. "She—she doesn't know?" he asked in shock. "How can she not know?"

Figuring the cat was all the way out of the bag anyway, I told him. "Erik pretended to die so Christine would leave and go with you. He knew he could not provide her with a good life, and you could. He knew that she was a good girl and wouldn't just leave him, so he had to fake that he was gone."

"That's _impossible_!" Raoul cried. "She didn't check his heart, or his breathing? How do you _pretend to be dead_?"

"I do not know. But she truly believes he is gone."

"Then where is he?" he said wildly, looking around as though Erik might suddenly drop down in front of him. "Is he here? Have you been keeping him _here_?"

"I don't know where Erik is," I replied, keeping my voice as steady as I could. "And this is very much the truth. He has vanished."

"I saw him at my house the other day!" he shot back furiously. "He was trying to take Christine away again! He was outside the window, singing to her, and if I hadn't pulled her back, she could have fallen! He's just playing the same _sick_ games all over again!"

"Erik does not make the same mistake twice."

"Why would he _do _that to her, then? Make her stay with him, and then make her leave? Pretend to die? That's so cruel! He's a horrible monster, and not only does he take _my_ fiancée, but then he decides he doesn't want her anymore and runs off under the mask of _death_!" He suddenly laughed like a maniac, and I was visibly reminded of Erik, losing his temper and shouting. Where I had been scared of Erik, I only felt sorry for Raoul. He was obviously under much stress, what with his wedding being called off and his unfortunate rival's resurrection. "Wait until she finds out he lied to her again, I'm sure she'll be _really_ happy about that! This is the most- _dramatic_ and _silly_ and _horrible_ thing I have ever had to deal with, ever!"

"Christine's reaction is something that will have to be faced eventually. I will not let her live like this, when I believe she belongs with Erik. But that time must not be now, she's not ready. It would kill her."

Raoul stared at me. He seemed to only have heard one thing I said.

"You believe she belongs with Erik?" he asked. "Did you just say that?"

I bowed my head. "I did."

He stepped away from me, shaking his head. "You heard him," he whispered. "In his house, when he tried to kill us. How do you know one day he won't get angry and snap Christine's neck? He'll hurt her! I can't let her make a stupid decision and go back to him. Not _again_! I thought your moment of weakness that night was just a soft spot for a dying man. I forgave you for it, but this, I cannot allow!"

"Erik loves Christine—"

"He's incapable of love! Maybe he lusts after her, maybe he's obsessed with her, but he doesn't love her! He's tricked you as he's tricked Christine! Don't you see what a horrible man he is? I'm not just saying that because _I _want Christine! I would rather her be with someone safe! Someone who won't hurt her!"

"I beg of you, if you care for Christine at all, you will not tell her this—not yet," I said quietly.

"Are you going to tell her?" he demanded. "She'll believe you more."

"I know," I said. "I will tell her when she's ready."

"When will that be?"

I couldn't tell him that I had absolutely no idea. The longer I waited, the worse it would be, but I had no idea to go about telling her.

That was something Erik should have done.

"I will go over there tomorrow evening," Raoul stated evenly. "I will tell her. Maybe this will open her eyes to how he would treat her if she were to go back to him."

He stood and walked to the door. "Faking death," He shook his head. "Coward."

I opened the door for him. "I'm sorry to have told you that," I said, as he stepped out onto the street. "I know it's horrible to hear. But Erik truly has vanished, and he has not gone near Christine. He faked his death in order to truly free her. If he had wanted to keep her, he would have. But keeping her is not what he wanted."

Raoul smiled. "Maybe he's vanished for good, and Christine can be happy without him."

I smiled back at him. "Maybe." But I didn't mean it.


	8. Decisions

**I know there's a lot of Nadir right now, but that's because I think he's such a good observer. He's probably also the only character whole can fully assess Erik and Christine's relationship without having any prejudices towards either of them. So for those of you who like Nadir, get your fill now!**

**I think Christine's reaction is realistic; Remember that she's very child-like and innocent, and she truly believes Erik is dead. **

**Thanks for all your kind reviews!**

Nadir

I knocked incessantly on Christine's door for a full minute before she answered, pulling open the door, just a crack.

"Nadir!" she exclaimed, standing in her nightgown, looking shocked. "It's late! Is something the matter?"

"I need to talk to you right now," I told her, not having time to feel embarrassed or awkward. This had gone on long enough! I hated stories like these!

She hesitated. "I'm not dressed. I was really in bed. But if it's important…" She looked at me again. "Wait one moment."

She closed the door and I sat on the step and buried my face in my hands. I had made my decision, and I would not go back on it, but I wasn't sure how to express it. Did I just burst it out? Did I say it like a metaphor? Should I let her guess? I had grown to like Christine, and now, that I had to deliver this news, was extremely discouraging.

"Come in," I heard her soft voice behind me. I rose and entered.

She lit the small family room as we crossed over to it. She sat on the loveseat, but I remained standing, my teeth clenched tightly and my hands bracing the wall. This was it... the moment that Erik would surely kill me for.

"Christine," I said slowly. "I owe you an apology."

She stared up at me, confused.

"I have been deceiving you," I continued, struggling. "It was not my intention, but it spiraled out of control. Little lies have to keep going, see? I'm just sorry where it led up to. But it has gone on for too long."

"What are you talking about?"

I went and sat down next to her. "Christine, Erik is alive."

She did not question or disbelieve, as I thought she would. Instead, her voice took on a soothing tone, and she said, "Sometimes I sense him, as well. Sometimes, I think I can even hear him. And I question, too." She smiled gently. "He will always be with me, in a way."

I blinked rapidly. I knew this was going to be more complicated than I thought.

"You don't understand," I said blearily. "Erik faked his death to you to let you go. He thought you were only staying because he made you promise. He could not see how you cared for him. Believe me, I am telling the truth. He was alive and well when you left that room. He came to stay with me."

Christine stopped with her mouth open, and gave a quizzical stare, although I noticed her breathing quicken. "Why are you saying this?"

"I've wanted to tell you for some time, after realizing that perhaps you were better off together than I first thought. And now, six weeks later—"

"If Erik was alive, he'd be here," she interrupted stubbornly. "He would never abandon me like that. It goes against everything he ever did for me!"

"He would do whatever he thinks is best for you."

"Erik knew I loved him!" she protested. "Haven't I proved it over and over? He knows that! We knew we only had a short time together!"

"Erik has very poor judgment when it comes to his emotions," I said quietly. "He hides them too long, and then is ashamed of them."

"He wasn't ashamed of loving me," she argued. "If he were still alive, we'd be together right now, like he promised. Death kept us apart."

"I feel terrible," I whispered. "Why did he leave this to me to explain? I kept it secret, so you wouldn't come back, so you could be happy with Raoul, like he thought you would be. I believed this, at first. In most ways, you would be better off with Raoul. But my Rookheeya was taken from me in death. And it was the cruelest turn life had ever given me. And to find anyone after her? Never. We belonged together, but death separated us. Death did not separate you and Erik. Erik's firm convictions that you belonged with Raoul separated you. But he doesn't know that you are living on your own—he's run off and I don't know where he is, and I need you to help me find him."

Christine stood, her blue eyes wide and frightened. "I don't think you know what you're saying," she said, her voice displaying a calm that did not show on her face. " I think you should go. I can't listen to this. I don't know why you would tell me this, unless you are ill."

"Christine—Mademoiselle—"

"Think about what you just told me. Erik would not leave me, like I left him…" She froze, her eyes going blank. "This is madness! I held him, as he died! He stopped moving completely. He closed his eyes. He told me, he would look at me until the end..."

"Help me find him."

"No," she replied evenly.

"I don't know where he is."

"Neither do I."

"You do believe me, do you not?"

"No, I don't. Please leave."

I rose, panicky and shaking. "You must believe me! Christine! How wrong I was!"

"Please leave!"

"Erik is alive, and this nonsense has gone on long enough!"

"Stop!" she shrieked. "Stop telling me such lies! Go away! Go _away_!"

I felt hopeless, a wreck. This is what my life had come to. Someone who brought bad news to everyone else.

I left, swearing never to see Erik or Christine again. A sad ending to what could have been a beautiful love story. But I would not chase after them. I would not waste my life. I was finished.

So I liked to tell myself.

Christine

Is this what pain is?

He is lying.

Erik would never do that.

Never. Never.

Erik loved me.

Didn't he?

.

Knocking woke me up the next morning. It roused me with terrible memories from the night before, and I rose, realizing I had fallen asleep on the couch, dressed but tousled.

I rocked back and forth, knowing who the caller was, and willing him to go away. I was surprised, when I heard a lighter and regal voice calling through the wood.

"Christine? Are you awake?"

I scrambled off the couch like a school-girl and threw open the door. I buried my face in his chest.

Raoul stumbled back, surprised by my sudden contact, and awkwardly stroked my back. "Good morning to you, too," he said. "Are you happy to see me?"

"Raoul," I murmured. "Nadir came and said the most terrible things."

"I missed you too," he said rather sardonically. His voice took on a graver tone and said,"But I know. That's why I want to talk to you."

I pulled back. "What? You know—what?"

He pushed me in my own home gently and closed the door. "You look a mess," he observed concernedly. "Can I make you some tea?"

"What do you know?" I asked, ignoring his offer. "Tell me what is going on here!"

"Why don't we sit down and have some breakfast?" He looked around. "You have hardly decorated! I know it's a very simple place - I was hoping it would not be your permanent home."

"How can you talk of breakfast and of homes when you know whatever it is that you know?"

"Christine," he sighed, and I was suddenly so sick of everyone saying my name. He would give me a straight answer. Raoul would never lie to me. If it was true, and Raoul had known, he would have told me.

"Let me make you some tea," he declared, clearly not deterred from his breakfast strategy and he led me to the loveseat. "Wait here."

I leapt up and followed him like a hungry lion. "I am not waiting for anything!" I cried, anger and fear rushing through my heart at equal moments. "_You knew Erik was alive_?"

Raoul stopped and turned around. He measured the look on my face for an immeasurable amount of time. "No. I was most upset to find out he was. That was last night. I swore I would come and tell you this evening, but I couldn't wait." He watched me. "Apparently the old Persian beat me to it."

I swayed.

"Erik?" I called.

But it was not Erik who caught me as I headed towards the ground. It was Raoul.

He carried me over to the loveseat as I sobbed tearless sobs. He let me cry on him. Nothing was said.

This could not be happening.

This could not be happening!

_Erik, how could you?_

Why would you do that to me? Because I did it to you? Were you trying to let me know how it felt? Because I already knew. And now I feel dead, betrayed and used. If you still loved me, why would you abandon me and let me live like this? There were far too many chances for you to come back and take me away, but you had to let me suffer first, and then had the news delivered.

Raoul gave me his handkerchief, but there were no tears. I sat up, looking at everything different, _feeling_ different…

"Do you want to come back to live with me?" he asked, and behind his comforting tone I could hear real hope there, and it would have broken my heart if my heart had not already been broken past all repair.

My sorrow quickly turned into determination. I had to do something first, to certain myself that what Nadir had said was true. Erik had vanished? Hiding, again. He would not do this to me. I wouldn't let him. I would find him and force him to speak to me, make him tell me why he really did it. I could not really believe it until I had seen it.

"I cannot," I said. "Not like this. I have to go do something first."

A peculiar look crossed his face. "You're not going to _look_ for him, are you?"

"What else can I do, Raoul? I need to know why he did this. I need him to know what he did to me."

"Because he's insane! Unstable!"

"Not to me."

"Yes, _to you!_ To you most of all!" Raoul leaned forward. "Think of what he's done to you. Think of everything he's ever done to hurt you." I put my head down, but he lifted up my chin and forced me to look at him. "Think. This has gone on long enough. Who do you really love: me or him?"

_Erik might be dead and gone forever, but Raoul is right here..._

I closed my eyes, and then opened them. "Him."

Raoul let out a shaky breath and stood. "I won't let him hurt you," he promised. "This is not a silly play, Christine. You are choosing him for the wrong reasons!"

"I am not choosing him. I am going to find him to see why he lied to me."

"You are as unstable as he is!"

"Thank you for telling me all this, Raoul."

He came over and pressed his lips to mine, almost desperately, and I did not turn away. If this was how he had to say goodbye, then I would let him.

"Don't do this," he begged. "Don't do this. For me. Don't do this. How could you do this? What about me is not good enough for you?"

I threw my arms around him. "Oh Raoul! Do not say that! You are too good for me. I feel guilt every time I look in your eyes! But Erik and I have gone through too much. Our souls our entwined, Raoul, whether he is dead or alive. Do you want a girl whose soul is entwined with another man?"

"If it's you, then yes," he murmured.

I could hardly handle this pain anymore. I took his hand and showed him to the door. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for me." I brushed my hand against his cheek, feeling such gratitude and such guilt. Raoul leaned out and shut the door. I drew my hand back suddenly, shocked; but it was honestly no less than I deserved.

"I am sorry, you know," I said to the empty hall. "But this is between Erik and I."


	9. Discovery

**I love you, reviewers! You make this story so much fun to write!**

Christine

I did not know where to begin my search, but I thought Nadir could help. I went to his house later, but his servant told me he was out. I was disappointed, but I told him to tell his master to come over to my place this evening. I was going to do this. I was going to track down this ghost.

I waited and waited, but he never came.

Slightly disappointed, I went to Raoul's house too, but I was informed that he had traveled to London and would not be back for several weeks. I didn't really believe this, because I knew this is what the maids said to many people to get them to go away; I also knew that Raoul would have mentioned that to me when he came over.

So obviously, my friends had decided that no one was going to help me if I were indeed to go and search for Erik. I would have to do it myself. Unfortunately, I had absolutely no idea where to look. Where would he have gone? What was I even doing?

I stayed nearby, going to all living quarters and asking the landlord if they had seen a man in a mask. None of them had. I began to travel farther and farther away until I was in the outskirts of Paris, a part of town I really did not want to be in. Had any of them seen him? Again, I was laughed at, and would go home dejected and depressed. Nothing in my life had ever prepared me for the intricacies of a search party. Erik was a master of... well, everything. If he truly did not want to be found, he would not be found. How was I to even know if he was still in Paris at all? How was I even to know _if he was even alive?_

It was no help that I had many long walks to think about things. What had Erik been thinking when he decided it would be best to leave me? I tried my best to understand his position, but all I could think of was how much I loved him and how I would never willingly leave his side.

_You did once_, a voice reminded me. _You were going to run away from him_.

He scared me. I was afraid of what he was saying. But I understand now. I realize that he loved me, and was unable to express it.

He expressed it to me once. I believed him. I gave it back. All was well.

And then he_ died_.

Now I knew that my angel was still out there, and I would search to the end of the world, if I had to. I had to find him, to tell him that I loved him. And if he didn't want me anymore, then so be it. At least he would know how I felt. How I would have stayed with him, had he stayed alive.

I cried, like always, but they were always tearless. Not one tear for you, Erik, just like you wished.

It wasn't until a week after my mission, one long, depressing, lead-less week, that I received an interesting reaction from someone. It was a dingy apartment that I knew Erik would have never liked, with its tinted sidings and old structure. The caretaker was an old, gruff man who told me the rooms were full and no masked man would ever receive admission here. At his words, the landlord, a young, dirty man looked up at me; our eyes met, and I just knew that he knew that something was responding to the words _masked man_.

He turned around and went inside.

"Wait!" I cried, running up the path and banging on the door. "I need to speak with you!"

"No more rooms, mam'selle." His voice floated through the door. "All full."

"You know Erik?" I begged.

"Erik? I know many Eriks."

"You know the masked Erik!"

He threw open the door. "Hush!" he spat at me. "Is that his name, then? Do you want to get me killed?"

At his words, a rush of hope overcame me. Clearly, he was speaking of my Erik! "Where is he?" I demanded. "Tell me everything!"

He looked at me disgustedly. I could see he very much wanted to slam the door again. "He's not here anymore."

"Where did he go?" I asked, as if talking to a simple-minded fool. He grimaced at my tone, and held open the door, as if to gesture me in. On second thought, he stepped out and slammed it behind him.

"How do you know him?" he asked quietly, next to my ear; he smelled of dirty water. "How did you know he was here?"

"I've been all over Paris," I gasped, stepping backwards. "I need to know where he went."

He put his dirty hands on his hips and mimicked me stepping back. "I can't tell you. Sorry."

He turned back to his door. "I won't leave until you tell me." I called angrily.

"Stay all you'd like," he called back. "But staying here won't find him. By the time you leave, he'll probably already be in Russia."

He let out a laugh like a hyena, and left me there, with my mouth open.

Erik

When Gregoire came in that night, I was already in a very bad mood. I had finished my designs and I wanted them to be delivered that morning so that work could be started on it tonight. However, he did come in all day, and he knew I wouldn't dare venture out, so I waited furiously all evening until he came in.

"You fool," I growled angrily. "Where have you _been_?"

"Working," he replied smugly. "I delivered your plans today."

"That should have taken less than an hour! And now I have new plans." I was more than irritable. "Deliver them now."

He made a face at me like the ignorant imbecile he was. "I'm off tonight," he retorted. "I don't run around town tonight."

"Oh no," I sighed darkly. "How unfortunate." I slid the plans across the desk, deliberately hitting the sack of gold on my desk with my hand. His eyes went to it immediately. "Should I ask someone else to bring it?"

"You wouldn't be able to find anyone else," he muttered, and I pretended to not to hear. But he reached out and took the papers. "Is that all mine?" he asked greedily, staring at the sack.

I sighed and reached in and took out a few notes. "Remind me why I pay you," I said coldly. He rolled his eyes.

"I keep quiet, give you unlimited use of a room, give your building papers to the stone yard, and tell any man who comes looking for you that I've never seen you before in my life."

"Good," I grumbled. "And before you deliver them, for God's sakes, take a bath."

His eyes sparkled as he seized the notes. "Don't know if I have enough money to buy soap," he rattled, dodging to the door. I ignored him. How I hated that man! I would dispose of him when he was no longer necessary. But for now, I was strangely addicted to this plan work. I felt inspired, healthy, and it sure as hell kept my brain off the thought of anything else.

"Someone came looking for you today," he said. "I think I deserve quite a few more notes for my trouble."

I raised suspicious eyes. "Persian?" I inquired. Had the bastard finally sought me out with his detective skills? A little knot of fear in me grew. Was it the boy? If he found me, I would have no choice but to kill him.

Gregoire squinted. "Nope. Young girl. Brown curls. Pretty thing."

I froze.

_It couldn't be_.

Not her.

She didn't know. She didn't know I was here. How would she know? She couldn't.

A funny feeling crept up in my chest. My breathing tightened until I felt as thought I was wheezing.

"And... anyway... you said it was to not tell any man... so... I figured for a woman, I deserved- what the hell is wrong with you?" he blubbered, drawing back away from me.

I was going to _murder_ Nadir…

"What did you say?" I choked, coming toward his with outstretched hands. He backed out the door and into the hallway wall. "_Tell me what you said to her!"_

"Said you were going to Russia!" he shot back, plainly terrified. "You should be thanking me—"

I wrapped my hands around his throat and his salary flew everywhere—he grasped at them as they fluttered to the floor. "_You _should be begging me for your _life_!"

"Let go!" he wheezed, but I pushed at his neck as hard as I could, the terrifying fear feeding my anger until I snapped and fled down the hall. I could hear Gregoire whining behind me.

_Christine, Christine, Christine!_

When had she come? Why hadn't I asked?

She would never forgive me! She would hate me forever!

Where was she? Where did she go?

She knows!

_Now what do I do?_

I must find her, I must explain. I cannot let her marry Raoul. She belongs to me! I don't care if she hates me! I need her to know. I need her to love me! _I will not let you go again!_

I am coming to find you, beloved!

I pushed open the back door and into the dark. Where was the Chagny chateau? I will take you back, angel. You and me forever. I will not let you go again.

_No!_

What am I talking about? No! She is not mine, she is without me, she is better without me, but then why oh why is she prying around here, looking for me? Why could she not let me go as I had done to her?

This is what my life has come down to. Christine. Just her.

I run past all the buildings, past all the trees.

_I will not let you go again._


	10. Tears of Joy

Raoul

I slept uneasily at night, knowing Christine was looking for a murderer. I worried about her a lot, and this took a toll on my sleeping habits.

Sometimes my nightmares involved yellow eyes, glowing at me from the foot of my bed, so when I saw them, I just rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

Until I realized I was awake.

I sat straight up, preparing to call for my butler when his gloved hand went over my mouth; it was cold and rough, and I wondered how many innocent people had met their end with those hands. It was the most disturbing sensation I could possibly imagine, and it was only worsened when I thought of how many times Christine had been touched by those hands.

"I really don't think you should scream, Vicomte," the monster said. "I really am in a bit of a hurry, so bringing in a whole brigade would just complicate things. Can you tell me where Christine is?"

This animal who tried to kill me has just waltzed into my room in the middle of the night and asked about the whereabouts of my ex-fiancée!

"She made the very poor decision of looking for you," I said in a hurried voice, desperate to put my face at a bit of distance from his dead hands. "How the _hell_ did you get in here?"

"She's not here?" it asked, the yellow eyes narrowing under the mask that hid that hideous face.

"Why would she be here? She left me for you! And you don't even want her! Get out of here before I shoot you!"

I reached across my pillow to my drawer to get my revolver—only it wasn't there.

Erik twiddled between his hands. "This really shouldn't be any sort of disagreement, Vicomte. All I want is to find Christine."

"So you can do _what_ to her?" I said ferociously. "Dishonor her again? Sleep with her while she's betrothed to another man?"

I silenced myself when I found my own gun pointed at the base of my throat.

"You have no idea how particularily bothered I am by that statement!" he exclaimed, and he sounded shocked. His hand trembled. For a moment, I was convinced he was going to kill me now, even after all we'd already been through. What a way to die.

"Are you suddenly growing noble? Shoot me, then!"

"I will ask again, and I will ask nicely. Do you know the whereabouts of Christine?"

"I said no!"

He suddenly dropped the weapon and vanished out the widow before I had time to react.

I sat still, making sure it wasn't a dream.

"James! Get my carriage ready now!"

Erik

I targeted Nadir next. Although it was late, all the lights still appeared to be on. I could have forced open the door, but instead I knocked impatiently, my hands shaking, my blood full of adrenaline. I was going to find Christine tonight…

Nadir opened the door. "_Erik_?" he asked, an expression of shock written all over his face.

"Yes, you fool, who else would it be?" I pushed past him into the room. "Where is Christine?"

He said nothing.

"I know she knows! You told her! _Why_ did you tell her? I don't even care! I just need to know where she is!"

He remained mute and looked helplessly over to the hearth.

I followed his gaze.

Nadir

In that moment, where Erik's eyes traveled across the room to the girl sitting on my couch, I wanted to believe there was still such a thing as happily ever after. I wanted for them to find that eternal sense of attachment that I had always longed for with my own wife. But alas, I could tell that this story was not one written for my own eyes.

I excused myself from the room.

Erik

_Oh..._

She was too beautiful, sitting in the armchair, her curls dropping into her face. My memory had not captured her spirit that I saw, sitting here in front of me. Seeing her on the balcony had not been enough. My chest felt as though it were hollow, but the tightness in it was making me ache to be near heart was pounding with love for this woman, and yet I was so terribly afraid of rejection that I could not bring myself to move near to her. _She must be furious at me; she will never want to see me again!_

Have I hurt her? Has she cried? _I told her not to cry!_

"Erik?" she whispered, and her voice was like angels, too sweet for someone like me to hear. My eyes were blinded with tears. What must she think of me? How had I survived this long without her?

She stood, ever so slowly, to face me. Her expression was unreadable. Her eyes were blank.

"Christine." I tried to say, but I don't think any sound came out. For once, my voice had completely and utterly failed me.

"Erik," she said slowly. There was an emotion building in the back of her voice—was it joy? "You're not in Russia!"

Out of all the things she could have possibly said to me, that was not what I had expected. I felt so unnerved and unreal that I couldn't quite register what she said.

Russia? Did she say Russia?

Before I could help myself, I was laughing—a nervous reaction mixed in with my fear. "I really do hope not. That would be quite baffling."

And my beautiful angel threw herself in my arms.

I could not handle what was happening. My shock was overwhelming. I touched her curls, her hair, stroked her forehead, touched the pale lavender of her dress, felt the fabric, felt her movements, felt her skin, sensed the person near to me. The physical sensation of having her to me like this was truly almost unbearable.

She was really here! In my arms!

Two months have turned into nothing, for Christine knows I am here with her, and I will never leave her! Two months of lies and broken hearts have been redeemed; cashed in for a reward so wonderful, that I can taste it, breathe it.

She stood in my arms, shaking, and looked up at me with the most beautiful smile on her face; an expression completely at odds with the tears streaming down her face.

"Erik, look! Look! I'm crying!" she said joyfully, and I held her back, completely bewildered.

"Why are _you_ crying?" I asked, my heart thudding with terror. "How angry are you at me?"

"You're alive!" she cried. "You're alive, and I'm crying! You're here. I knew you would never leave me!"

She leaned forward, as if to kiss me, and it was too much. I was a horrible man who had broken her heart, and I would not allow her to reward me in that way.

"Christine, I thought I had no choice," I started, and she opened her mouth to interrupt, but I had to say it, or I would never be able to look in her crystal-clear eyes again. "I just wanted you to be happy, I thought you could put my memory to peace, so to say, and then you could be happy with Raoul. But I think you loved me, and now I'm sorry, because I never want to lie to you, and I cannot leave you ever, ever, again! Christine, you must forgive me! I will do anything, but don't leave me, please—"

"You silly man," she said happily. "I love you! I've been looking for you! And now I've found you! There will be time to be angry later, love, but now—I'm—I'm happy!"

She can be angry at me later.

But now she loves me!

She loves me, she loves me, she loves me!

We were both silent for a minute, holding very tightly, my face buried in her silky curls, her face buried in my neck. It was contentment between us. Mutual understanding. This was my girl. What a silly old man I was.

"I have missed you," she whispered sorrowfully in my ear. Her voice sent a chill down my spine. "I love you, Erik. Can you believe me?"

I looked into her eyes. "Yes," I whispered back. "I can believe you. I believed you each and every time that you said it to me."

She blushed a little. "That was real, Erik," she said softly. "I did not come to a dying man. I truly came to you as my husband." She turned even redder. "I have missed you every night, since."

I could have said a million things to that, but my throat was too dry. "And I, you," I said feebly.

She smiled. "You will stay with me? I have my own apartment."

I couldn't say the name, but she sensed it.

"Raoul and I agreed to end our engagement," she told me quite calmly. "I needed to—mourn for you, and being left alone let me know that I could never love Raoul like I had you. He was there when I needed him, but he knew I needed you." Her eyes lit up. "I think, maybe, I knew you were still alive. I didn't realize it then, but maybe my heart felt you. That's why I left Raoul." She thought for a moment, and then sighed. "No - I knew you were dead. And that was the real reason I could not stay with Raoul. Because I was dead too."

"I love you so much," I choked. "But Christine - I cannot do this. I may be dead tomorrow for all we know. So many of your actions are a mystery to me. I want to know more."

"My actions?" she asked. "What about your actions?"

We both paused, staring at each other. I could not stop looking into her eyes. I could not stop take my hands off of her. I relented first. "There will be a time for many questions later," I told her gently, and she nodded at once, her eyelids fluttering.

"Come with me," she offered softly. "Come home with me."

I hesitated. "You would not want me—"

She stepped forward, pressing herself to me. "Do not forget, you are my husband."

My mouth dropped a little. She was still married to me! She still loved me! Who was I to stand in the way of what she wanted?

_But-_

In one single instance, I crushed every thought holding me back from her. I threw away every single one of my safe-guards and buried them

"As you wish, wife." I murmured softly. God, I loved this woman. Could she be real?

Christine tilted her face to look at me. She slid my mask off with her hands, humming softly. I did not protest. The fabric fell to the floor.

She sighed happily. "It _is_ you," she breathed, her lips coming over mine. "I had to be completely sure." Her soft, beautiful lips entwining with mine, bringing me every joy this world has to offer. I don't want the world. I want Christine.

My angel.

I was here. I would never leave her again. I felt my ring still on her finger. I twirled it.

Hadn't we already promised that?


	11. A Final Farewell

Nadir

When I went back into my front room nearly an hour later, Erik and Christine were both gone. A note sat on the table that Erik had once thrown at me.

_Thank you Nadir, for everything. There is nothing more to be said. Erik is thankful too, although he specifically told me to write that he was glad to be rid of you. I think that's his way of saying thanks. He's going to be staying with me at my flat. You're free to visit us whenever._

_Christine_

I put the note down. A strange sense of peace was overcoming my very essence, a sort of contentness I had not felt since Rookheeya had died. Indeed, something about Christine had always vaguely reminded me of my late wife. How I missed her. Rookheeya had never managed the happy ending that she had deserved with me. Somehow, achieving this for Christine and Erik had released an odd source of stress that I had never fully even understood.

Raoul de Chagny stood at my doorstep, looking half crazed.

"He's here! He came into my room! He's looking for Christine!"

"He found her," I announced pleasantly. "You may put your worries to rest."

His breathing slowed and he stared at me curiously. "She's with him? Here?"

"No, I assume they are back at her flat now."

His eyes narrowed. "Why is he at her place?"

I sighed. "Christine is lonely. I am sure she would appreciate the company of her husband."

Raoul took a step back from me in disgust. "You still truly believe that?"

"With all that has happened?" I asked. "There is not much I would find _unbelievable_ at this point."

"You expect me to put my worries to rest after telling me this? This causes me more worries than ever before!"

"This was always out of your hands," I said very seriously. "This was a situation we could not rebel against. You ought to have peace on her being settled with Erik. He will take good care of her. It is what she wants."

Raoul threw up his hands. "So that's it then? It's all over? After everything he's done to her, all you can say is, _he will take good care of her?_"

"Leave them alone, boy," I said quietly. "Put it to rest."

"How am I supposed to _rest_ knowing that the woman who was supposed to be _my_ wife..." He trailed off, seemingly losing his voice. I did feel sorry for him. I considered inviting him inside, but I was feeling much too good to allow any damper on my spirits.

Raoul stood silent. Finally, he shook his head and backed away.

"This has been nothing but insanity. I should be glad to see the end of it."

Admittedly, I should have kept talking to him. Perhaps I really should have invited him inside.

But I shut the door on him and went to sleep.

Christine

I showed Erik around. "This is where I keep all my music!" I declared happily, knowing he would be proud that I had them so nice and neat. I had shown him every last detail, but mostly he just stared at me. There was a misty and unbelievable expression in them.

"You're not even looking," I said, pretending to pout, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Never had I felt so elated, so passionate about life! All of my fears and anxiety had melted away, and it seemed hard to believe that I had ever experienced sadness at any point in my life.

"I find you much more interesting," he replied softly.

His voice captivated me, and I suddenly felt like a little girl. I would have once shrunk away from him and locked up all my emotions inside. But now I approached him tenderly, and put my arms around his neck.

"This is all so hysterical," I murmured into his shoulder. "I feel like I'm in a dream."

"I cannot believe this is happening," he whispered. "That's how I feel."

We had talked for ages at Nadir's, but there was so much to be said. I clung to him a little tighter and said, "I really thought you were dead! I never would have left if I knew you were—"

"I know," he interrupted. "Please, Christine - there is no need to justify your actions to me."

"Your actions were silly," I mumbled into the fabric of his shirt. "I understand why you did it - I still think it was silly."

"Very _silly_," he agreed, and I could feel his slight smile at my word choice.

"I shall be angry with you tomorrow," I announced suddenly, pulling away. "But I have no room for anger inside of me right now."

"Go to sleep," he crooned perfectly, his angelic voice creating a hazy vision in my mind. "It is so late. We will have hours in which to talk tomorrow. This has been undoubtedly a long day for you."

"Nonsense," I protested. I could not waste a single second of sleep with him here. "I don't want to leave you." I protested, reaching up and seizing his neck. He bent down and shifted, so I was curled comfortably on his lap.

"You're so soft," he whispered, and I felt his tense muscles and realized he was still not used to touching me.. It seemed strange that the last time we had been together had been such a different time. I have been so petrified... and he had been so patient...

"I will be right here, while you sleep," he promised faithfully. But something about him seemed a little off to me. For two months, I had been imagining him as if we had continued where we had left off, as true husband and wife, and what that would have entailed for us. Now, his tone was more paternal than anything, and I did not want to be curled upon his lap like a child.

I sat up and pulled away from him, and he recoiled instantly, his fingers tightening into fists that he clung into himself. "I have a bedroom," I stated. "I want to sleep in there. Come with me."

Every bit of his hesitation was obvious. "To... sleep next to you?" he asked blankly.

"Yes," I said, undeterred. "We have before, have we not?"

"Yes, but..." His voice was swift, but unsure. "That was vastly different circumstances, my dear."

"But you are still my husband, and I would like you to sleep next to me," I pressed.

He stared at me for a long time, and I was proud that my voice did not display my embarrassment I did not know how to handle these things - I did not know what to do! As a witness before God, Nadir had been there to see us married, and at the time, I had been nothing but certain that it was official. Now, however, my heart fluttered uneasily. To share a bed with another, unwed, was a sin... Yes somehow, I could not imagine how something that would bring me such peace could be a sin.

Erik looked at me, as if reading what I was really thinking. I did not want to feel insignificant under his gaze anymore. I wanted to feel equal.

"Of course," he said.

I held out my arms to him, and he followed me in.

.

The next afternoon, I went into town. Erik was in shock that I had no food in the home at all. I did not want to leave him, but he finally settled on waiting for me while I relented and made my way as quickly as I could to pick up necessary items. I felt better, thinking of Erik at home—our home—where he would be waiting for me. This was not some dream; he was really here, alive with me, and we were together. My mistakes had not cost me love as I had thought.

It was while I was purchasing my fruit that I saw him: the dirty man from the place where I had found Erik; the man who told me he was in Russia. Erik had explained that he had simply hired him to do things so Erik could keep busy and not dwell on me, which caused him pain. I did not think on him much, and I turned away, forgetting about him. He was no use to me now.

But he saw me.

He approached me quickly and grabbed my arm. I gave a little gasp in shock, and nearly dropped my apples.

"He's gone. He's gone! He owed me over a thousand francs and then he just left!" he hissed at me. "He left because of you, I know it! Well guess what, little pretty! I know who he is! I know he's wanted, and I won't even begin to explain how much I'd get from the police if I informed them of his whereabouts! Wanted for murder, is he not? The crashing of the chandelier? And they all think he's dead!"

I fumbled to get away from him. "Don't touch me!"

The landlord turned and went to the nearest group of people, all very nicely dressed. "Ever heard of the Opera Ghost? She has!"

I laughed aloud at that feeble attempt, but I still grew uncomfortable with this situation. What was going on? Everything seemed so confusing in a matter of seconds. Why could I not handle these situations?

"You are speaking nonsense," I said loudly, feigning a calm I did not feel. "No one is listening to you!"

"I was paid for silence," he said angrily. "And now I am not being paid - so what is there to keep my silence?"

I laughed again, but there was no humor in it.

I suddenly felt a hand grip the back of my arm, and I spun on the spot, horrific visions filling my head, but behind me, stood no one other than Raoul de Chagny.

Dear, precious Raoul! How he must hate me!

"Christine?" he said, and he raked his eyes over me. "I did not dream of running into you here. Are you well?"

I tried to gasp hello, but before I could, Raoul looked up and spotted Gregoire. "You?" he said, with a small frown. "How odd to see you again, Gregoire. I would assume you have found other work, but... well, your clothes do not suggest that."

Gregoire looked furious. "_You_," he spat. "I'll have you know I have never been more successful than I am now."

"I can see that, obviously," Raoul said with a frown. "How do you know Christine?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but Gregoire spoke first. "She doesn't know me. But we have a mutual friend. A mutual friend who could have helped me work my way to success, if he hadn't abandoned me after seeing the likes of her!"

I could see Raoul trying to put it together. "He wants Erik," I said miserably.

"_Erik_ was the key to your success?" Raoul asked.

"He owes me a lot of money!"

Raoul looked from my face, to Gregoire. "And your idea is blackmail? That has to be the dumbest thing I ever heard."

"Damned fool!" Gregoire cried. "I swear, he owes me money! The Phantom still lives!" he bellowed. "We can track him down! We can—"

"Oh, be quiet," Raoul said heavily. "I will double whatever he owes you if you hush."

Gregoire silenced himself completely. "Is that a promise?" he asked swiftly, his tone completely changed. "Or a re-hire?"

"A promise," Raoul said, looking disgusted. "But also one to be settled another time. If you would like to come by some time this week, we can discuss it in further detail."

Gregoire gave him one more scrutinizing look. "Sure," he said in a temperamental voice, and he looked me up and down one more time before he shrugged and marched away.

I was quite sure I had held my breath the entire time.

Raoul turned to me as soon as he walked away. "Never liked him. Used to work for us, until he was dismissed for being drunk all the time." He looked down at me. "He always called me names. But start over. How did you come across him again?"

"It's a very long story," I said queasily. "But I don't know how I can thank you for getting rid of him."

"It was nothing," he said breezily. There was an awkward pause as we both stood there, in the middle of the plaza, surrounded by people. I clutched my basket closer to me and tried to gain the courage to look at him in his eyes.

"Raoul-"

"Don't. I've heard enough from Nadir. I just don't need to hear any more from you." He gave a great sigh. "I thought we were done with all of this quite a while ago, but I was wrong. I only hope this time, things have truly settled down for us."

"You have always been a great friend," I said pleadingly. "I wish I could explain this to you. I wish you could understand. But Raoul... know that I am sorry."

Raoul nodded, his expression blank. "I won't lie, I am very happy to be done with the whole situation. And it was exhausting to have you moping all of the time. So don't feel too sorry for me, Christine."

I smiled at him, and reached out to hug him. He allowed it, but he looked over my shoulder pointedly. I embraced him, putting all of my goodbyes in one last touch.

"Farewell, Christine," he said, pulling away. "Have a good life."

I could only stare at his retreating back, thanking God, and filled with a sudden longing for Erik.

.

He was lingering at the door when I came home, and he instantly pulled me into his arms, brushing the top of my head with his lips. "We will have to talk in the future about how long you are allowed to be gone."

Without hesitating, I think for the first time in my life, I learned up and I kissed him on the lips. I felt him stiffen a bit, but he did not pull away.

"Let's go sing," I said finally, releasing him and pulling off his mask. He blinked down a few times at me. "And then tell me a story tonight. And then we'll go to bed. You and I."

Erik looked a little bewildered. "Is everything alright, Christine?"

Feeling him near to me had given me the feeling that there was little that could not be right in this world right now. The creator of such turmoil of emotions simply stood in front of me, his body poised for confusion, his face studying me carefully. I could only smile at him - and after a few moments, he smiled back too.


	12. Epilogue

**A/N: Thank you all for reading my story. I hope this is a passable way that Kay could have ended her beautiful tale. To my reviewers: A MILLION THANKS! There is nothing more that needs to be said. Check for any new stories by me in the near future!**

Erik and I ended up moving anyway. My little home was a reminder of the hard weeks I went through without him, and as Erik said, my furniture really did not match at all.

We purchased a very tiny house right outside of Paris. Erik found it, after exploring one evening, and he bought it on the spot from the seller. When he came home, he was so entranced by it, that he woke me up and took me to see it, right in the middle of the night. It was in the middle of woods, far away from people, with lots of space. He prowled and explored it for hours while I walked around following him, thrilled by his enthusiasm. It was far removed from anyone else, ensuring us privacy and plenty of space to let us sing as loud as we wanted without pesky neighbors coming to tell us to hush.

As far as our relationship went, we spent a long time talking about what we had done to each other; it made him uncomfortable, but I decided that it need to be said, to be explained. I didn't want him to feel unloved or unwanted. I wanted to crush every negative thought he'd ever had about himself, and I wanted to replace them all with thoughts of us. But alas, it was an impossible task. I could not save Erik - I could never erase things that had been done. But I loved him anyway.

It took weeks before he truly began to open up to me, physically and emotionally. He shied away from physical affection less and less. It felt odd to approach personal topics with him at first. Eventually, it was him who took authority and I followed him without question, determined to please him.

Another thing I was concerned about was his health. I was not naive enough to assume he was dead without him really looking as if he were about to die. I actually hadn't even thought about it while I was with him, but then one night, I had a vivid dream about his death.

I woke, crying and shaking, and Erik was right there, lying next to me, holding me and promising everything was alright.

I tried to make a better statement about his health. The very little that he ate, I made sure was the healthiest things I could purchase; I forbade him to lift anything heavier than me; and I quickly approached him about any drugs.

"No drugs," he had promised me, holding out his hands as if I were accusing them of hiding in his fists. "No more, Christine."

I believed him mostly, although I would be lying if I said I was positive that he never took any substance again.

Our singing resumed, a completely different story now that I had no more lessons. The first thing Erik wanted me to do was go back to the opera, but I couldn't. Too many memories, too many faces; I had been a scandal, and I was not brave enough to face that. Not now, not ever.

Erik was all I wanted.

How could I ever have imagined living without him? His cold lips are always seeking out mine, his eloquent fingers always asking to be encircled around my waist. His hesitancy in physical love was not an obstacle as much as it would seem to be. Often, we just sat together, for it seemed he desired my presence more than anything else.

I believe Nadir and Erik keep up a correspondence, but he didn't visit us much when we lived in our flat, and he certainly couldn't come often to the other side of Paris. I made a few good friends around my new home, but, like Erik, I believe I am destined to be something of a loner.

"Silly girl," Erik said to me, when I confided in my fears. "You are everything I was not."

It was not perfect, living with Erik. Had I thought he would be angel every second, now that we were, as we liked to call it, husband and wife? His temper remained as acute as ever. Sometimes he locked himself away and did not come out for a while. He grew impatient with me often.

I was in the living room, reading the newspaper about Raoul's new lover. I hated how they portrayed her as a silly nothing who was dragged along everywhere by the Vicomte, simply to show off the newest dress or hat- that had once been me.

Unfortunately, I was poring over that particular article when Erik came in. Silent as always, I didn't even know he was there until he was breathing down my neck.

"Missing your young man?" he voiced, making me jump. I knew instantly that I was guilty of something.

I smiled anyway. "I'm just reading the paper, silly."

"And you always seem to be reading the exact same page," he noted dryly. He was right, although for the wrong reasons. I only read the paper for news of Raoul. And he read into my actions the wrong way.

I sighed. "What do you want me to say, Erik? I want to see what Raoul is doing. And I'm curious about his new flame."

"Jealous?" he asked dryly. "Jealous that she gets the viscount and you do not?"

That made me angry. I turned and glared at him over the back of the couch. "No, I am _not_ jealous. I said c_urious_. I cared about Raoul."

His eyes suddenly burned flames. "Curiosity changes the face of every emotion," he breathed. "Selecting your stories in secret, and then making up excuses when I catch you! How extraordinarily suspicious. And yet, I suppose, you simply cannot put his memory to rest, as you once did mine."

"And you are acting ridiculous!" I exclaimed, grabbing his tight hands as he tried to draw away from me. "Sit down!"

"I much preferred the submissive Christine!" he shot icily. "To the one now he tells me what to do!"

I suddenly worried about his health. Anymore anger and another attack could finish him off… Perhaps he was thinking this too, taking calming breaths and closing his eyes. I let the paper fall to the floor.

"Erik," I said in my most soothing tone. "I love you."

His "I love you too" was muttered and almost inaudible. I reached and removed his mask, turning his face to look at me. His anger does not scare me anymore. He is much calmer, much more easily consoled, and I used that.

"Please don't be angry at me," I whispered. "I'll burn the papers if you really want me to, but they're nothing. I'm just reading about an old friend. Not a threat to our relationship."

"Nothing threatens me," he said shortly, finally looking at me in my eyes. "But... you should burn the papers."

Erik and I fight very little now. If we do fight, it is about something silly, something that I usually do wrong, and something that he overreacts to. I win most of them, because usually he's being absurd.

We attend the opera every now and then. The new soprano is slightly older than me, with chestnut curls and a lovely coloratura voice. I was deeply impressed, and Erik deemed her 'passable', which was extravagant praise.

Another time, I had gone to the opera alone, but I received a surprise when in between acts I found Erik lurking around in the waiting area.

"Erik!" I called, and he attempted to blend with the shadows. Too late. "I s_ee_ you."

Resigned, he stepped forward, his arms crossing over his chest. "How oddly perceptive your eyesight is getting, Christine."

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, a little suspicious with his hidden behavior. "You said you didn't want to come."

"And so I did not," he said quietly. "I was just… checking to make sure you're alright."

His care touched me, but I suspected an ulterior motive: I knew very well that Raoul was attending this opera with his new wife that night.

"You weren't checking on me for _other_ reasons, were you Erik?"

"What other reasons, darling?" he asked innocently.

I stared at him for a long time. "I am not interacting with Raoul."

He chuckled. "But you obviously know he is here."

I rolled my eyes. First, I had seen it in the paper, but I didn't want Erik to think I was still reading it because of Raoul. "I _saw_ him, Erik. I can see him in his Box."

He looked down, and I think he was ashamed at being caught. That had probably never happened to him before.

The last act was to be starting soon, and ushers came around, reminding patrons to get to their seats. I looked desperately at Erik's figure. I had never liked this opera much anyway.

"Would you like me to come home with you?" I asked softly.

"Yes, please," he replied tonelessly, hiding the relief in his voice.

So you see, we have struck a nice balance.

Our one-year anniversary is approaching next week. I mentioned to him yesterday that we could have a nice dinner. He grunted and pretended to ignore me, but I think he likes the idea.

So much has changed.

Raoul's three-month marriage ended in a messy and very publicized divorce. According to the newspapers—which I look at when Erik is not in the house—he is already courting again, to a rich woman from up North.

I have learned to play a few songs on the piano, helped along by my ever-so-magnificent teacher.

The opera house is doing so well that they are considering building another little section. Erik is interested.

Closer to home, Erik and I are in love and happy. His health is doing fine so far, something I am very thankful for.

When talking about children, Erik's response has gone from, "Absolutely not." to "Never." to "No." to "I said no!" to "Tell me _why_ we should talk about it" to "So help me, if you mention that one more time—" to "For God's sakes, fine, _we'll talk about it_!" I am much encouraged.

I have planted a rosebush next to our front door. Many buds are missing. I think I know what my anniversary present will be.

Tonight, Erik is offering to tell me a story. I settle back into his lap while removing his mask, as his angel's voice begins to speak. I listen for the hundredth time about the white rose and the nightingale, and the forbidden love. I think, as always, about Erik and me.

Perhaps our love was meant to be after all.


End file.
